[INTRO — old record sample, distant and damaged] (A warm 1970s soul voice plays through vinyl crackle.) Soul singer: “Son… when the road gets long… Keep walking… Keep walking…” (Record begins warping.) Keep walk—… keep—… CLICK. (Silence.) [Dark piano enters — single notes, low bass underneath] Spoken: Pops… They say death separates the living from the dead. But nobody tells you what it does to the ones left standing. Because part of me went in that ground with you. And part of you… never left me. [VERSE 1] I used to think my father couldn’t die, Like God made one exception and that exception was mine. Little boy looking up, thinking Pops was made of stone, Now I’m a grown man learning what it means to feel alone. And people say, “He’s in a better place.” I know. But what about this place? What about the empty chair? What about the phone number I can’t call? What about needing my father when I’m supposed to be the man everybody else calls? That’s the part nobody talks about. Grief don’t knock. It lets itself in. Sits across from you at three in the morning and starts pulling old memories out of a box. “Remember this?” Yeah. “Remember his voice?” Yeah… “Remember when you thought he’d never leave?” …Yeah. Then grief smiles. Because it knows exactly where to cut me. [HOOK — low, haunting male harmonies] I love you, Pops… A piece of me went with you. And some nights this world gets so damn heavy I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. ‘Cause I know I can’t see you here again, No matter how badly I want to. So I carry this pain… Until the day God lets me come home to you. [VERSE 2 — drums become heavier] And that’s where my mind gets dangerous. Because grief knows how to whisper. “You know there’s a way to see him again…” Shut up. “You miss him, don’t you?” Every damn day. “Then why keep waiting?” Because that ain’t what my father taught me. See, that’s the war inside a grieving man’s head. One voice saying, “You’re tired.” The other saying, “Get out that bed.” One saying, “Maybe peace is somewhere with the dead.” Then I hear Pops— “Boy, you better LIVE instead.” [BEAT CUTS] … I hear you, Dad. I hear you. [BEAT RETURNS HARDER] Because you didn’t raise me to chase you into that grave. You raised me to stand here. Even broken. Even crying. Even on the days when being strong feels like another word for lying. Because sometimes when they ask how I’m doing, I say, “I’m good.” But I’m not good. I just learned how to cry where nobody can see it. Learned how to say your name without my voice shaking. Learned how to walk past your picture without stopping every time… But don’t confuse surviving with not hurting. I’m hurting, Pops. I’m hurting. [HOOK] I love you, Pops… A piece of me went with you. And some nights this world gets so damn heavy I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know I can’t see you here again, And that’s the truth that cuts straight through. So I’ll keep walking… Until God says it’s time for me to come home to you. [VERSE 3 — PSYCHOLOGICAL CONVERSATION] Grief: “You tired?” Man: Yeah. Grief: “Miss him?” Every day. Grief: “Wish you could see him?” More than you understand. Grief: “Then come on…” No. Grief: “Why?” Because I’ve got people here who love me too. Grief: “But you’re hurting.” I know. Grief: “Then make it stop.” NO. (Beat stops.) Because if Pops was standing here right now… He wouldn’t tell me to follow him. He’d look me dead in my eyes the way only a father can look at his son… And say— Father’s distant voice: “Not yet, son.” … Man: Pops? Father: “Not yet.” Man: But I miss you. Father: “I know.” Man: Some days I don’t know if I can do this. Father: “Then do one more day.” Man: And tomorrow? Father: “Do another.” Man: Until when? (Long silence.) Father: “Until we meet again.” [FINAL VERSE — beat slowly rebuilds] So tomorrow morning… I’m getting up. Not because the pain disappeared. Not because I finally figured grief out. I’m getting up because my father spent his life teaching me how to live mine. I’ve still got people to love. People to protect. Stories about you I gotta tell. And someday when my hair turns gray and my own journey reaches its end… I pray I open my eyes somewhere else… And there you are again. Maybe you’ll smile. Maybe you’ll say, “Took you long enough, boy.” And I’ll laugh… because for the first time there won’t be another goodbye waiting behind it. But until then… I’ve got work to do down here. [OUTRO — original 70s soul sample returns] Keep walking, son… Even when the road gets long… Keep walking… Man, quietly: I love you, Pops. I wish you were here. But I’m staying. I’ll see you when God says it’s time. Not a second sooner. (Vinyl crackle.) CLICK.
